For Destruction Ice
by probablyquantum
Summary: Steve Rogers has already lost the only person he's ever loved. Now he's going to lose everything else. Cap/Bucky SLASH. Oneshot. Based on the movie but applicable to the comics.


Summary: Steve Rogers has already lost the only person he's ever loved. Now he's going to lose everything else. Cap/Bucky slash with a shot of angst.

WARNINGS: SLASH. Contains male/male romantic themes (Bucky/Cap). If that's not your thing, back slowly out the door.

Genre: Romance; character study; one-shot

Rating: T for non-explicit slash, death.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Marvel franchise in any way. This story is intended to fall within the protection of fair use. It is written for noncommercial purposes. The title is from the Robert Frost poem "Fire and Ice" because I think Steve Rogers is the kind of guy who would like Robert Frost.

Note: This fic is based solely on the 2011 movie but is applicable to the comics, as well.

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For Destruction Ice

By probablyquantum

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I have chosen to plummet to my death. It's fitting that I'm going to slam into a sheet of ice, just like Bucky slipped from my grasp and fell into the wintry chasm below us. His scream whistles in my ear and merges with the groaning wind as my plane fights the descent. I push downward, and the ground rises even faster.

Peggy is with me, at least. I tell her she owes me a dance lesson. She makes a date for eight o'clock sharp, and for a crazed moment I even believe that I'll be able to meet her there.

Then I look over and I see her photograph on the dash. She is beautiful as she smiles at the camera. At least her life will go on. I will die like Bucky died, and that's how it should be.

I don't need a photograph of him because I've memorized every hair on his head, his impish smile, his deep eyes. I know the way he swaggers slightly when he walks, like he knows he's the hottest thing ever to don a uniform. Swaggered, I correct myself. Knew. Everything with him is the past tense, just like I'm going to be in less than a second.

I'll take a moment to bring you up to speed. They say when you're about to die your life flashes before your eyes, and it's kind of true. But your life is the people you loved and the people who loved you, so that's all you really see, not everything in minute detail. I see Bucky and Peggy.

I see Bucky falling, Bucky with a gun pointed at the enemy, Bucky with his arm around a girl. Bucky was always surrounded by dames. Women, I mean. It's probably his smile. Bucky has this swell smile that can charm anyone. It did a number on me, that's for sure.

I fell for Bucky hard, harder than I'm falling now. I never talked about it, never told him. I never really sweated it too much; it's not like anyone wondered why I never had any girlfriends. I was scrawny and weak, so girls never gave me the time of day. Of course guys didn't either, especially not Bucky.

Don't get me wrong. I've got nothing against women. They're pretty and soft, especially Peggy. But I notice guys. Until Peggy gave me that kiss today all I ever did was notice people, and they didn't notice me back.

Sometimes when Bucky talked about his dates he said there was a specific point in time when he realized he was in love. He said it always hit him like lightning straight to the heart. It wasn't like that for me. We'd known each other for ages, so it was like I'd always loved him. I don't know when it started becoming something more for me, but somewhere along the line the envy I had for his active dating life became jealousy—of him, not the girls. And so I noted it. Accepted that it was an impossible situation.

I suffered in silence; I burned with desire for him and never let on. What choice did I have? Lose my best friend because I was stupid enough to think anything would ever come of it?

It got so bad that his touch was like fire. A simple clap on the back or light punch to the arm would leave me reeling for days.

I was almost relieved when he left for Britain without me, even though the thought of him dying halfway across the world at the hands of the Nazis made me cold with dread. I would have a reprieve, some time to regain my senses and move on. I might even find someone else.

And I did. Fancy that. Peggy made everything so easy. She admired me. Maybe she even loved me. I don't think I love her back, but I think one day I could have. I'm not gonna get that day, though, so it doesn't matter.

But being away from Bucky didn't make it any easier, and when I found out that he'd been taken prisoner or worse, I got that chill again, and not even Peggy's soft curves could distract me from my mission. Luckily, Peggy also nabbed me a helmet. She helped me save him, and I think that's reason enough to kiss her right there.

Of course, I'll admit to hoping that my transformation into a hunky super-soldier would turn his head. Maybe he'd be so overwhelmed to see me towering above him that he'd kiss me right there in the lab while the world fell apart around us. As it was, his bewildered _I thought you were smaller_ gave me enough fodder for erotic dreams for the rest of my life. Which wasn't that long, but I assure you a lonely romantic like me can go through lots of fantasies in a single day. I had months yet.

The time I had with him during the war was the best time of my life. I knew we could die at any moment, so there wasn't much use paying my stupid feelings any mind.

I was just about getting around to accepting my lot again when he gave me that damned picture. You know the one, the little photograph of Peggy that I kept in my compass. Bucky'd been so proud that I'd managed to get a woman like that. He said he was jealous and that he hated it, but I knew better. I could tell from the gleam in his eyes when I talked about her. He was happy for me.

One night he cornered me in a quiet spot away from the others. "I've got something for you."

I was surprised. He smiled in that way that I liked to pretend was just for me, but I knew he used it on pretty much everyone to get his way. "You do?"

"Yeah. A gift."

He fumbled in his pocket and produced a compass, then pressed it into my hands. I suppressed a shudder at the feel of his fingers brushing mine and tried to pass it off as the cold. I could feel his hot breath caress my face as he leaned in to look over my shoulder.

"Um, thanks, I guess," I said, my heart faltering as I turned the heavy compass over in my hand. I felt foolish thinking it would be some kind of meaningful gift. Instead I was confused. "But I've already got one of these."

He laughed. "Well, ya gotta open it. The gift's inside."

I pried open the lid to the compass and saw Peggy smiling out at me. I recognized the picture from a newspaper photo. I had no idea how Bucky had got hold of a copy, much less found some plastic to protect it from the snow. But there it was.

"Your lady, see? Now trade me your compass. That was my only one."

I gladly handed him an identical, standard-issue box from my pack and thanked him profusely. I didn't let him know that I was more excited about having something of his than about the picture.

He held my gaze then, and for a moment I pretended that his eyes held some kind of hidden message that acknowledged what I felt and why.

I always expected to be able to tell Bucky how I felt one day. Maybe after we were both safely married and old and it didn't matter anymore, I could bring it up casually. I'd be quick about it. Not a big deal. A quick _I love you, did you know that?_ And then we'd go back to talking about the Yankees.

I'll never know whether he ever suspected anything. Before I could ask he fell out of a train, screaming for help on his way down. I'd never felt more powerless, but it was done. There was a war to fight, and I was going to give them hell for taking the life of such a good man.

Things went cold for a long time after that. I wanted them dead, all of them. I stopped using the compass because I was afraid I'd lose the only part of Bucky I had left. I held it in my hand while I slept at night, hoping its presence would ward away the nightmares where his hand slips and he screams for me to save him.

Peggy was there for me, but I think in the end she knew she was playing second fiddle to a dead man. Why she stayed with me I'll never know, but I'm glad she did.

Right now I glance at her picture cradled inside Bucky's compass, and I start to tell Peggy I'm afraid I'll step on her feet if I try to dance with her.

I have so many things left to say and questions left to ask. But at least I have a date.

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